


The Rise of King Alistair Therin

by SoLongSaulGood



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair/Morrigan/Anora, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, F/F, F/F/M, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Hardened Alistair (Dragon Age), Hardened Leliana (Dragon Age), M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Softened Morrigan (Dragon Age), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-21 05:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoLongSaulGood/pseuds/SoLongSaulGood
Summary: After being encouraged to become king and marry Anora, Alistair's relationship with his new queen develops in ways no one could predict. How can he manage new responsibilities, a marriage of convenience, and the witch who's the mother of his bastard child?Plays with events from DA:O, and Witch Hunt. A healthy mix of romance, action, adventure, slice of life wholesomeness and graphic smut.
Relationships: Alistair & Morrigan (Dragon Age), Alistair/Morrigan (Dragon Age), Anora Mac Tir & Morrigan, Female Mahariel & Morrigan (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Mahariel (Dragon Age), Morrigan & Wynne (Dragon Age), Morrigan/Anora Mac Tir
Kudos: 11





	1. A Brave New World

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing is an experiment of with the idea of not only a hardened Alistair, but a softened Morrigan as well. I am desperately interested in how the jagged edges of the witch's personality can be smoothed down and whether or not it will fundamentally change her and/or her relationship with Alistair. Thank you for indulging with me in this thing.

_Present Day, 9:36 Dragon - Denerim Castle_

The knocking came hard and fast. Anora pushed her long blonde hair back, gathered her skirts and quickly went to the royal chamber door. She opened it to see an old man and a teenager flagging behind him, both wore the royal uniforms of the palace staff and both were severely out of breath.

They were bent over, hands on knees and shoulders heaving, having run a distance to find their queen. It was the housecarl, older and balding compared to the royal page that sported bright red hair and a mass of freckles on his face next to him. He was the one assigned to the Royal Archives she remembered, Anora frowned.

“My Queen!” the housecarl almost shouted, “please, you must come at once!” He spoke between breaths.

“What has happened?” Anora’s brows furrowed. Her daily regalia sat well upon her, the tiara shone in the morning sun, her dress the color of the Denerim standard, white and green, was the height of fashion. Her rings and necklace radiated her position; the Queen of Ferelden held herself straight and ready for the duty of her kingdom.

“The Enchantress, she has…” The housecarl left the sentence hanging with a wide-eyed grimace. The page behind him made the same face. “She’s done it again.”

“The Orlesian ambassador was to see her, is he...?” The situation dawned on her and she matched the faces of the other two. “Oh, sweet Andraste!”

The Queen of Ferelden once again gathered her skirts and rushed out the door brushing past the housecarl and the page. The two followed behind as she ran through the outer-palace where the halls were tighter. Their steps echoing in the stone space lit by arrow loops and slim windows that allowed the midday sun that hung over the capital city of Denerim.

Palace guards saluted her as she ran. Her feet carried her as fast they could, Anora was swift. In times like this, it was Allistair that would be sent, but the King of Ferelden was gone to Redcliffe to honor his nephew Connor for something she could not remember. She remembered it was important to Arl Eamon but for the life of her she couldn’t remember why.

While rushing down long halls and across the courtyard to the separate building that was the Royal Archives, Anora steeled herself for the confrontation to come. When she finally came to the door, she burst in without invitation.

The expansive space was filled with tall shelves filled with books, tomes and grimoires. Sunlight from tall windows streamed in brightened the otherwise dullish interior. In the middle of the rows of books, she saw the Orlesian ambassador and the man-sized bubble he was trapped in.

“Merciful Andraste.” She intoned her thanks with a tired sigh and sagging shoulders. It was a force field spell as she had studied in her books and seen several times it was cast on assassins unsuccessfully trying to kill her or her family. The Queen took a quick moment to study both the spell and the subject trapped within.

The ambassador was well enough alive, though the blue, and white globe that surrounded him kept him unable to say so. The hex he was trapped in was an indication of the skill of the mage. Anora whipped her head around, scanning the chamber for those who cast it.

“Morrigan!” The Queen called when she could not see her.

The Court Enchantress stepped out from one of the long rows of bookcases that filled the Royal Archives, cradling a stack of books in her hands. Her eyes were the color of polished gold. She wore a sleeveless purple dress matching the Denerim summer and jewels adorned her neck and hands. Her lips were painted crimson and her black hair was as she usually wore it, pinned into a bun with some fringe hanging over her eyes. She made a haughty expression as soon as she saw Anora.

“My Queen.” Morrigan bowed her head and curtsied deeply. Anora’s brows knit as she frowned, she was in no mood for teasing.

“Stop that, you know I hate that.”

Morrigan looked up, her yellow eyes shone and she smirked wickedly at the blonde woman and then turned to put the books away in her arms. She heard and felt Anora stalk towards her leaving the housecarl and page behind inspecting the glowing hex.

“What happened?” The Queen asked, tentatively touching Morrigan’s shoulder.

“The Ambassador is fine. ‘Tis little you need concern yourself with.” The Enchantress casually shelved books as she spoke not bothering to turn. Anora’s eyes went from the nobleman trapped within magics and the witch acting like a coy librarian.

“Yet the question remains, my dear Enchantress,” The Queen softly pressed, “why in the first place.”

“Oh, you know these Orlesians. Quick with words, slovenly with actions. Thinking themselves oh so clever. And after some oh so clever words from the ambassador,” Morrigan’s her singsong cadence ended as she ground the last word down and spit it out like bile, “I felt a lesson needed to be taught. A few days in the force field should suffice.” She continued shelving books down the shelves with Anora behind her.

The Queen read the situation, and could assume it easily as it was not the first time. She looked at Morrigan, even now while dressed in fine livery, she radiated power as she completed chores Anora knew, the royal archivists usually did. She could not help but smile a little.

The Court Enchantress held her title since after the Fifth Blight and has served loyally since. With the dissolution of Mage Circles across the land, the idea of allowing an apostate a court position was a scandalous one. Having helped the King and the Hero of Ferelden end a blight was a major point of acceptance for most, one that Alistair and Anora was quick to bring up often.

She was feared at first. Rumors of her being a literal witch of the wilds, that she was Flemeth herself, ran rampant in Denerim, though only the ones of her beauty and her temper were confirmed. Their King’s Templar training assuaged fears that she was some Maleficar temptress and the constant support from the Queen helped ingrain her as a fixture in most Royal affairs. But rumors persisted no matter what they did.

“Morrigan, please look at me.” She placed her hand on the witch’s bare arm, squeezing lightly. The raven haired woman turned with a petulant look.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Really? Are you going to do that the entire conversation?”

Anora rolled her eyes, glanced about to see that none were looking and tiptoed so she could lean over the books Morrigan held to plant a solid kiss on her lips. She let it linger till she felt the other woman relax and reluctantly, slowly pulled away. Still cradling her face in her hands, the Queen quietly spoke.

“My wife, please, will you talk to me?”

“He was in luck that I was in bright moods.” Morrigan told her and then turned, breaking their contact and went to place her stack of books on a wooden stool by some shelves and straightened her skirts dramatically. Anora took Morrigan’s hands into her own.

“What did he say?” The blonde looked up at the taller woman. Blue eyes met yellow ones.

“Snide insinuations.” Morrigan sneered, her nose wrinkling. “Stupid assumptions and direct insults.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” Anora brushed her thumbs over the top of Morrigan’s hands.

“He suggested that the reason you’ve produced no heir is that dogs cannot get cows pregnant. ‘Tis a running joke in Orlais apparently.” The Enchantress informed her Queen.

Anora’s entire body tensed a moment and her face became hard. Morrigan could feel it as they held hands. The dark haired woman continued.

“He assumed my loyalty to the Crown questionable and thus revealed himself.” Morrigan was pleased to see an angry scowl grow on her wife’s face.

“How long?” Anora asked.

“A little over an hour.”

“And maintaining it?”

“Indefinitely.” Morrigan made an evil smirk.

“Don’t let him out ‘til Alistair gets here.” Anora requested. “I would like all of us to be present when he’s released.” Morrigan quirked her brow, it was a delicious idea, made even sweeter that her kind and beloved wife was the one to suggest it. She couldn’t wait to see the ambassador's face when he finished the crude joke about her spouses.

“And when does our dear husband finally return?”

“Midday tomorrow.”

“Mmm, I shall keep the good ambassador here till then.”

Anora brought Morrigan’s hands to her lips for a quick peck. The situation was, to her estimation, solved, and she had more important tasks to oversee in the next few hours. She would have preferred to spend time with her wife but she chose to have an active hand of the day to day of the castle. She tarried just a bit longer despite.

“How was Keiran today? He was asleep when I left.”

“Sullen.”

“Oh?” Anora’s brows perked, her concern for their son showing.

“He is not taking his new lessons well, he dislikes sword training.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

“I pressed him to commit a time longer, simply for the fact he needs more exercise in general.”

“Alistair will be so disappointed. Would you like me to talk to him?”

“No. Not yet, but if Kieran's opinion is unchanged in a few weeks I shall reconsider it.”

Anora gave her wife a searching look and decided not to further the subject. “Will you be dining with us tonight?” She asked hopefully.

“My research runs late, I cannot guarantee my presence at tonight’s meal…” Morrigan saw the look of disappointment on her wife’s face change to surprise when she was pulled into a sudden embrace.

Morrigan wrapped her arms around her wife’s waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss. A moment together and hands groped bodies while tongues slid upon each other. A moan from the blonde woman melting into her wife, her lover, and they pulled away. Anora was slightly unfocused and Morrigan was smirking. The witch leaned into her wife’s ear.

“But I will most definitely be with _you_ afterwards.” The witch whispered nipping at the blonde's lower lip.

They broke apart giggling, giving each other mischievous smiles and bedroom eyes that made promises to lovers. The Queen walked down the tall shelves of books towards the Hurlock-shit insanity that was managing Denerim castle while readjusting herself. She straightened her crown and brushed her skirts even making herself presentable.

The Queen stepped out from the bookcase and the page and the housecarl both straightened at the sight of her. The older man stood by the still glowing man-sized blue ball and looked like he was about to say something but Anora interrupted. She cleared her throat before she spoke, the two trading looks with one another.

“The ambassador will stay with us till midday tomorrow. You will inform his delegates of this and you will imply as much lechery as possible. Better to make them think he’s having a good time.”

Satisfied, Anora picked up her skirts and made her way to the door, before she heard the page and the housecarl call for her. She turned to see both miming wiping something off their face. Anora gave them both a confused look, seeing this the housecarl snapped to the page to stop and pointed to a metal shield adorning a wall.

The page hoisted it off and quickly stepped up to his queen holding it up to the light. Anora inspected her reflection in the well polished surface and saw a bright red smear all over her mouth, evidence of what she was doing with her Enchantress.

She would have turned and yelled but the distant sound of a mocking raven told her it was useless. She could only ball her hands into fists and seethe at her wife. The page smirked slightly and Anora caught him before he could recover.

“Oh, you can just shut up.” Anora gave the boy a dirty look who shrank behind the shield while she tried to wipe off her face. The housecarl produced a kerchief and took over for her after he forced her hands down. Anora slumped and just sighed, giving up a little. She eyed the housecarl as he did his best to salvage her face.

“How's your husband?” she asked while he worked.

The older man frowned deeply and sighed as she had. “He bought a bloody horse without telling me.” He spit in the kerchief and continued to wipe vigorously. She felt for him.

“Why did we ever get married to these people?” The Queen asked any that could hear her. The page smirked again while the housecarl snorted though he managed to get most of the red off Anora’s face.

* * *

_9:30 Dragon, Six Years Ago, Warden’s Camp Outside Redcliffe Castle_

“You thoughtless buffoon! I have more expectations from the hound than I do with you.” Morrigan cut at him with her words.

“Who would care what a heartless witch like you would even think?”

They were in camp and once again the group was privy to Alistair and Morrigan exchanging loud and harsh words while debating with the Warden. The others gave them a wide berth. While his Warden sister seemed to be developing a relationship with Leliana, even she knew to leave them to their heated discussions. They were careful to let the three of them alone.

“Better heartless than brainless, you thick headed simpleton. You would seek to go the unknown path instead of the clear one? Why? Isolde is more than willing and it is not as though you even care for her. You said yourself she sent you away to the Templars for the mere threat of your legitimacy.”

“That’s not the bloody point you evil, thoughtless hag.” Alistair rolled his eyes.

“Ir abelas, my friend but…” Lyna, the sole Dalish reluctantly brought up. Morrigan smirked and Alistair shot an angry look at his junior. “This is the most obvious way.”

The elf was not wrong and it only spurned Alistair further. There were nobler paths than that of the least resistant one.

“Remember what happened when we walked the obvious path that Zathrian set us to? Slay the monsters and break the curse! And what happened with Witherfang? Are we throwing away the lessons we learned in Brecilian? The Circle may have more answers for us.” Alistair threw the fate of the Dalish keeper at his Warden sister. He was adamant and Morrigan could only sneer at his conviction.

“Or they may know nothing. A day and a half the least is what you ask of us when the moment to act is the present.” The witch pressed.

“The arless said she can maintain Connor for longer than that.” Alistair reminded them.

“We can solve this problem now Warden.” Morrigan urged the elf.

“Or we can find a better way.” Alistair sighed.

The Dalish Warden looked at both and could not help but consider their sides of this. Morrigan was right that an obvious and efficient path was at hand. The blood mage they found in the dungeons of Redcliffe was a wealth of information and could perform the ritual, and with Isolde willingness to sacrifice herself it seemed both swift and efficient. Yet she couldn't help but hear Alistair's words, mercy was a Dalish tenant taught to them at a young age.

“I will think of it for a while.” The elf near collapsed onto the log used as a bench by the fire, exhausted in both body and mind. “Please, the both of you, leave me be. I am weary of this all.” The other two left her to her thoughts, though they continued to argue with each other.

“You are a hypocrite.” Morrigan told Alistair, who was seething, as she stalked towards her tent, separate and far from the others. The tall man took long steps following the witch and finally catching her below the elbow.

“And how, bloody so?” His voice was edged and teeth grit.

“The situation here is so clear even a fool should see it. Yet you stay your hand? How magnanimous of you templar, to hold your steel from what is clearly an abomination.” Morrigan’s eyes looked down at the grasping gauntleted hand and then up to the face of he who held her.

“What?” Alistair was confused, unsure where she was going with her venomous words.

“If that boy were anyone else, your sword would have come down long before any question was asked. But now since you know him, since he’s family, a better way is discussed.”

“I’ve never killed any children.” Ground out at her as though that fact too should have been obvious.

“But your order does! If a child displayed abominable magicks that Connor had, templars would be ordered to slay them. Is that not true?”

“Of course that’s part of a templar’s duty but…”

“But even though your entire institution is the Chantry arm that oversees the capture and regulation and execution of apostate mages,” Morrigan spoke firmer with each word, her emotions rising, “yet you don't see your hypocrisy when it’s lain before you.”

She caught his eyes. He was distracted but still staring at her. Morrigan could not deny that in the light of the moon, he looked handsome. Young and strong and clean looking, a constant smirk on his face telling you he’s made yet another stupid joke that made none but himself laugh.

The intensity of their arguing replaced his usual childishness. It all made her pause just long enough to make Alistair think he just might have a chance at something. He stepped closer and she gasped slightly, the verbal thrashing she was giving this buffoon turned into a stutter in her speech and a breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not a templar, I never actually finished my training.” Alistair admitted softly as he snaked a hand around her waist and breaching the final gap between them. He was taller by two hands so he looked down as he spoke.

“Yet another of your failures!” She gave one last slash with her words, but sounded desperate in her own ears. “What do you think you are doing?” She whispered as he leaned forwards and his arm pushed her into him.

Pathetic, how predictable of a man? That he would resort to flesh was commentary on his weakness, Morrigan could only assume. That he would try to silence her with his lips when he could brook an argument no longer was just more proof of what she thought.

Alistair touched his forehead with hers instead, keeping her close to his body which was thankfully unarmored allowing their chests to press against one another. She was paralyzed as he squeezed her into him. Her arms were draped over his broad upper body, her hands resting on his solid shoulders. Morrigan felt her heart beating thunderously. They stayed like that for a long languorous moment.

“Release me, oaf.” Softly, finally, she spoke her demand though made no struggle.

“Are jabs and barbs all that you speak?” Alistair asked, matching her whispers.

Morrigan turned her head not wanting to answer but it allowed Alistair to crash his mouth to her earlobe, nipping at it eliciting small moans with every bite. She could hear him exhale, and feel his hot breath as his mouth made its way down, dragging his lips down her neck, burning her skin with his touch. She reached up and let her slender fingers rake through his blonde hair.

Then Morrigan pushed away and glared up at him. For anyone else, this would have been a warning to go no further, that anything more only invited danger, but Alistair was used to charging full tilt into precarious situations. This time though, standing his ground felt like steps forward.

Still holding her tightly, Alistair again met her forehead with his, their noses touching slightly. Was she trembling? He was not sure but what he was sure of was that they felt like they were in the same place, feeling the same things.

“Is there no room for any kindness? At least for a child's sake?” Alistair asked quietly.

Morrigan sighed deeply and lightly pushed against him again. Enough so that Alistair understood what she was asking and released his hold on her, breaking their embrace. Their eyes met, deep brown gazed into bright yellow. She lingered a moment and brought a hand to his face, feeling the roughness of his roadside stubble. Her thumb caressed his cheek then lightly brushed over his lips.

“Kindness will be the death of you. Even now you invite ruin.” Morrigan looked sad when she spoke, an apology at the border of her voice. She slipped her hand away and turned to her tent. Alistair could only watch her disappear into it.

He turned back to his own tent, his thoughts jumbled and his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. He saw Lyna still sitting on the log by the fire deep in thought. Alistair decided not to bother his Warden sister and headed straight to bed, falling asleep quickly but dreaming of maidens’ lips and cat eyes in the darkness.

And he woke in a cold sweat feeling as though he did not sleep at all. In his linens, he climbed out of his tent to see his Warden sister sitting ready in her leather armor, looking expectantly at Alistair. The elf poked at a low fire with a stick, the sun brightening the horizon behind her.

“We head North up the lake to the Mage Circle as soon as all are ready.” The elf informed him. Alistair perked his head in surprise and the elf woman looked at him with a furrow in her brow. “Morrigan changed her mind, said that we might find something of use at the tower.”

“She did?”

“She did.” The elf nodded though giving her fellow Warden a curious look.

Alistair gave no further comment. He adorned his armor and readied himself for the long march north. And while he and Morrigan would sometimes catch eyes with one another, neither brought up what had happened the night before.


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graphic smut warning.

_Present Day 9:36 Dragon, Denerim Castle Courtyard_

Alistair Therin, King of Ferelden, rode into the courtyard with his royal retinue. The sun was high and dust from the road covered his armor. He was a big man, tall and broad chested from years of sword and shield work. Wearing his armor with his shield strapped to his back and his sword resting at his side, he made an imposing image.

The ride from Redcliffe was not his longest journey but it was long enough that it felt good to be home all the same. His rear ached from sitting in a saddle for too long. A warm bath and a meal with his family afterwards seemed like a perfect end to his trip.

Dismounting, he saw Anora atop the stairs to the main entrance. He was happy to see her but he could not help to think that it was usually both his wives who greeted him on his returns. His queen was smiling though, and he waved and smiled in return, watching her walk down the steps. His Captain stepped to his side.

“Thanks for coming, Kallian.” He turned to her. She was slighter than most of his other guards being a city elf, this was shown being almost a head shorter than her king.

“It was this or drilling the men again. And sometimes I get really excited to leave the city sometimes y’know?”

Being born and raised in the Alienage of Denerim she had traveled little until she joined with the Wardens back during the last blight. When the battle ended and Alistair became king, he wanted to give her the captain position immediately, instead she chose to start as a guard and made her way gaining promotion after promotion till there was no question of making her Denerim’s first elven Captain of the Guard. Any objections thereafter were prejudiced or ignorant.

“Sometimes, but it's different for me now. I hardly ever want to leave my wives and Keiran.” He told the elf as she took his reins for him and passed it to stableboys that came for the horses.

“I can understand that, though Fergus won’t even bring up the subject of families with me.” The elf muttered. Alistair gave her a sympathetic look as Anora approached both.

“Welcome home, husband.” She tiptoed as Alistair leaned down to kiss her. She gave Kallian a bright smile as well as they all began up the stairs.

“And a good return to you Captain Tabris. Did you enjoy your time at Redcliffe?”

The elf shrugged in her platemale. “The view of the lake’s nice, I like Denerim Castle more though.” She looked about as though to prove her point and Alistair seemed to agree.

"And the ceremony was well received?" Anora asked both of them only to receive noncommittal shrugs.

“It’s not that it wasn’t nice…” Kallian began.

“It was bloody long. And Isolde waters down the beer at the ceremony.” Alistair clarified for his Guard Captain. “Come on, I want a bath, I’ll tell you and Morrigan about it over some food after.” He told his wife.

“That’s my cue to bugger off. Mi’Lady, mi’Lord.” The Captain gave a halfhearted salute to the two and walked off towards the rest of her men who were also looking forward to rest.

The King and Queen of Fereleden entered the Denerim Castle through a smaller servant's entrance to make way to the armory. It was not an uncommon sight for Denerim royalty to be strolling through the busier parts of the castle like this. Alistair slipped a gauntlet from his hand and held Anora’s as they walked and she kept him up to date with any news of the kingdom.

“Those Orlesian leave yet?” Alistair asked, remembering there was a visit from an entire delegate of diplomats from the neighboring kingdom.

“Hmm?” Anora pretended she did not hear him.

“Those stuffy Orlesians, they still around? I was hoping they’d be gone by the time I came home.”

“Oh, I think Morrigan has something to tell you about them.” She tried to remain casual.

“What? Did she hex another one?” Alistair snorted, amused with the idea but they’ve spoken with their wife about such things and she promised she’d never again unless…

Alistair looked at Anora. She did not meet his eyes, anywhere else she seemed to be more interesting. A sudden panic rose in Alistair. The blonde woman finally looked up to her husband with a guilty face.

“Should we be going faster than this?” Alistair asked, clearly worried.

“No need to rush, honestly my love. No one’s going anywhere just yet.”

“Well I guess that’s sort of good news.” He deflated a bit.

“Do not think so little of our wife. She will explain everything when we get to the archives.”

Alistair sighed. He might as well keep the armor on for a while longer. If the situation was what he assumed it was, looking officious and regal would be a good idea. He waved for a porter, many were bustling carrying food and stock about, it was easy to gain the attention of one, especially with him being the king and all.

He was young but teenaged with thick curly black hair. He approached Alistair apprehensively, the king spoke to him without formality. “Hey, could you find someone to get me my crown?”

“Your crown, your majesty?” he stuttered out. “But isn’t that….”

Alistair gave the child a big bright smile. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Will, ser.” His eyes were big and looked as though he were about to faint, his tall and gangly frame would have looked like a knocked down scarecrow.

“Will, you’re new?”

“Yes your majesty.” Will answered nervously.

Alistair continued smiling at him and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Anora watched him, her husband never cared for formalities, he found them a waste of time. He treated the servants like staff not slaves, and spoke to them familiarly, they were fond of him for it. While there were many things said of the Ferelden King, and Queen and the salacious subject of a shared mistress, one could say with certainty that they were well supported by their subjects. Moments like this were just singular in reason.

“Well alright, Will, I’m Alaistair and it’s good to have you working here. Now, I need you to find the senior storeman, tell him the king needs his crown brought to the royal archives.” He gave Will a meaningful look. “Can you do that for me?”

“Senior storeman, crown, royal archives.” Will nodded as he repeated the most important of what Alistair has tasked him.

“Good man.” Alistair clapped his shoulder.

They watched him round a corner and the rest of the royal staff carried on about their business as the King and Queen made their way towards the Royal Archives.

“Well, good to be home despite.” Alistair sighed and Anora squeezed his hand for assurance.

They kept a quick pace and arrived at their destination in no time. Alistair entered first and saw the bright blue and white force field hex trapping a foppish nobleman within it. Motes of light drifted from the magical sphere like fireflies. It might have been a pretty sight despite the situation. Besides it all stood the Court Enchantress herself.

“Welcome home, husband.” Morrigan greeted, though less enthusiastically than Anora had in the courtyard. Alistair simply walked up to her and kissed her lightly on the lips, bending his head to meet her as he did with Anora.

“Hello, my wife.”

A happy smile was given to the dark haired women whose mouth twitched upwards, but only a ghost of amusement was returned. A second reaffirming kiss was planted on her forehead. He did not see her roll her eyes, but he did hear her make a small huff.

“Anora explained the situation, I gather?” She queried her brow at him when he looked upon her again.

“Made an educated guess. He said something bloody stupid, didn’t he?” Alistair cocked his head back to the trapped nobleman.

“Morrigan hexed him midway. We hoped you could join us when he finished his clever joke.” Anora supplied and Alistair sighed for what he felt like the thousandth time in the last hour.

“More importantly, I think Keiran hates sword training and that sort of kills me a little.” The king admitted glumly.

Anora and Morrigan traded concerned glances. Alistair found a seat amongst the many long tables of the Royal Archives. Still in his armor coupled with his large physique he dwarfed the wooden chair that he planted himself in.

Morrigan hesitated, unsure what she should do. A look from Anora and a jerky nod to Alistair and the witch went to her husband to comfort him, it was still a practiced thing for her. Her wife did her best to help Morrigan along in dealing with their husband's emotions.

“He’s only just begun.” Morrigan soothed moving to Alistair, putting a soft hand against his cheek. Gone was her stiff and guarded demeanor seeing her husband so.

“And you know how it is when you just start something.” Anora added easily, stepping to them both and playing with Alistair's hair.

She pulled a chair over and sat next to her husband holding his hand. She glanced at Morrigan, still standing, looking over their husband, her hand on his face, then Anora returned her eyes to their road weary king. She held his hand again and gave it a squeeze. Alistair looked as though just looked tired.

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t push what I want on him, and that I can't let my own issues color my parenting, I get that part.” The king gave an annoyed recitation of facts. “I just…” The man had a hard time articulating his emotions but the witch helped her king along.

“A father and son play fighting with wooden swords, ‘tis everything you could have ever wished for at his age.”

Anora watched Alistair’s shoulders sag and gave another sigh, longer this time and with a tiredness borne of weight that was not the platemail he wore. He leaned back trying to relax a little. He let his head loll backwards limply, allowing more of Morrigan’s ministrations, her fingers having moved to his lips and neck. It was another one of the witches abilities, Anora noted; her deep insight into their husband. Anora was jealous of it at times.

“I’m not going to make a thing out of it in front of Keiran,” he waved his armored hand dismissively. “I just thought I might as well talk to you two about it while we were all together.”

Morrigan leaned over and kissed Alistair on his forehead, lightly, tentatively, like a bird drinking. Anora continued to stroke his hand, but kissed his cheek in support.

“Patience, my heart.” Morrigan told her husband. “Let the child grow into his sword arm.”

“And even if he doesn’t there are other things you two can share.” Anora suggested and she kissed his cheek. “He adores you, looks up to you.”

“I know, I know.” Alistair pouted.

A knock made the three of them turn to look passed the entrapped man to see Will at the Royal Archive’s door carefully holding a cushion which a crown rested upon. He could not help but be captivated by the bright bubble of magic.

“Ah, Will, my good man.” Alistair switched back to his charming prince persona and stood. Alistair approached the teen snapping Will out of his stare.

The king took the crown indelicately and put it on his head leaving the skinny teen holding only the cushion. He made a flourish for Will and his wives. Anora gave him a little smile while Morrigan only made a neutral face. Will grinned nervously unsure what to do.

“Um, is that all your majesty?” He asked.

“Oh, Yeah, I guess.” Alistair looked over to his wives and then the ambassador still stuck in a bubble. A sudden thought came to him. “You wanna stay and watch us embarrass a stuffed up Orlesian?” The king grinned at the porter.

“Alistair!” Anora looked scandalized. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“What? It’ll be funny?”

“Is that who’s in there?” Will asked, having never seen magic before. Alistair made a face as though he smelled something bad.

“Oh yes. He said something stupid, and our lovely Court Enchantress hexed him.”

Morrigan gave a slight smile of amusement when Will’s eyes went wide. “That’s real magic then?” The teen whispered.

“Oh, ‘tis very real magic indeed.” Morrigan assured.

“Alistair, I don’t think Will would be interested in…” Anora began.

“He made that bloody awful bit about Ferelden dogs and cows didn’t he?” Will spoke without thinking and clapped the cushion over his face realizing he spoke out of turn, interrupting his queen.

“Does everyone know that joke!?” Anora exclaimed standing up, ignoring the breach of royal protocol.

“What joke?” Alistair was lost.

“Is it that popular a jest amongst the common folk?” Morrigan asked annoyedly.

“Beggin’ your pardon m’lord, m’ladies, popular isn’t the right word. We bleedin’ hate it. But it’s what Chevaliers fresh from Orlais say when they want to start fights in Ferelden pubs. Heard they were banned from the Pearl for a while ‘cuz they wouldn’t stop making trouble with that blighted joke.” He looked sincerely at the three before him. “That's not the kind of thing we Denerim folk put up with, ‘specially when it's about our King and Queen.” He spoke proudly to them.

“Thank you, Will. That’s very kind of you to say.” Anora smiled at him. Will bowed respectfully at his queen.

“What joke?” Alistair repeated, still confused.

“Patience, husband. You will be told later.” Morrigan admonished, though only lightly.

“Staying for the show, then?” Alistair asked Will once more. The teen nodded enthusiastically. “Well, have a seat by a corner.” The king nodded to a row of tables and chairs.

“And stay silent.” Morrigan added.

“Thank you again for bringing the crown, Will.” Anora smiled graciously as the boy found a place a few desks away from the three of them while bowing slightly to his queen.

“Happy to ma’arm.” The boy smiled in return.

The King of Ferelden leaned back on a table directly behind the force field hex so they would not be seen immediately, while his queen straightened herself up, looking regal and stately. Morrigan waited till her spouses were ready, seeing them so she made a dramatic flourish with her hand and the magics fell away from the Orlesian as he was midway through a laugh.

It was loud and bellyful, and it was obvious he was oblivious to the fact he had been stuck in stasis for a day and a half. Morrigan seemed passive and expressionless, but from their vantage, her husband and wife knew after years of intimacy, the coldness they saw on her face now was borne from a place neither had seen in some time, they knew she was genuinely angry. And the smile that came after the man stopped laughing, Alistair shivered at the sight of it.

“Oh very amusing, ser ambassador. Truly, now could you repeat that for the rest of the audience?” She indicated to the two behind him and when he craned his head to look, color drained from his face to see the king and queen standing behind him.

“A belly-buster of a quip.” Alistair remarked sarcastically to the now ashen man before him.

“Truly, a comedic gem.” Anora added dryly.

“Your majesties, how… how did you…” the Olesian stuttered. And while he struggled to find a way out of his situation Will did his best not to laugh out loud as he watched the three dress him down.

* * *

They had an early dinner as Alistair still had a meeting later on with his uncle Teagan. He was hoping to go straight to bed with his wives but one more damn thing needed to be done. Alistair was sure he’d be able to make it quick. Tomorrow he’d have more time with his family.

For now he did his best to pretend to listen to his uncle Teagan proposing a change in some minor law. He knew he should do his best to pay more attention but tonight his heart wasn’t in it. The King stared at the mubari figurine in his hand, a present from his son, given to him during their meal. It was tiny but it was so intricately carved that in the candlelight you could clearly tell it was male.

“…it’s important that we put these practices into place for the benefit of the citizens,” lectured his uncle, Teagan. “You do agree sire, don’t you?”

“What? Oh yes, Uncle! I’ll look into your suggestions as soon as time allows, busy busy busy, you know that’s me.”  
Bann Teagan made a face as though he wanted to say otherwise but peered down to his scroll instead.

“Are you even listening, Alistair?”

“Of course!” The King looked offended.

“Good, then next item I wish to discuss…”

“Uncle, I know you mean well, but you know I was completely lying, right?” pleaded the King. “Can we please do this in the morning, I promise I’ll even bring Anora to make sure I’m paying attention.”

“You can’t depend on the queen to oversee every administrative issue all the time Alistair.” the older man admonished his nephew, obviously annoyed.

“Well you won’t let me put Morrigan in a position to do anything. She’s good at that stuff too.” the king complained, making a face.

“The Enchantress…” Teagan began carefully.

“Still scares the shit out of the magistrates.” Alistair rolled his eyes while still playing with the toy mubari. “And probably the image of a mage holding a position beyond one that relates to magey stuff might further rumors.” He supplied for his uncle.

“Well if you already understand all that, I won’t have you tell it to you. I will see you in the morning, my king.” Bann Teagan gave a sharp, swift nod and exited the throne room, backing away from his King without turning his back.

King Alistair knew he was gone once he heard the giant, oak throne room doors close and a friendly silence filled the room. The king’s head lolled back against the red velvet lining his throne; finally he could enjoy blissful isolation.

Minutes later, the throne doors creaked open and the King’s frustration boiled over. “What is it now!” he whined loudly and in a sarcastic tone.

The lack of a reply accompanied by footsteps coming towards him caused him to cautiously open one eye, while his crown sat lopsided covering the other one. He had one leg rested on the armrest of the throne, the other stretched out his front. Anora floated towards him in her baby blue nightdress, highlighting her ivory skin and the jewels that glistened sitting along her collarbone.

“Can your wife not come to wish you a pleasant night sleep?” Anora asked in a playfully teasing tone, adding “My King?” and gave a slight bow, exposing her cleavage. His eyes followed the swell of her breasts to her face, and he sat up and waved his finger, gesturing for her to come closer.

“I guess I can spare you a moment” he sighed, smiling like a little boy who has just played a prank on a friend, unable to hide his cheek. As his queen stepped between his knees, he tilted his head up to kiss her and she gently kissed him back.

“Let’s head up to bed” he said as he started to rise. His wife pushed him down with her hands on his knees, and whispered tenderly, “I thought we could do something different tonight.”

She kissed down his neck and up along his jawbone, stopping with his bottom lip between hers. He let out a small giggle, and then cleared his throat, as to not seem too thrilled.

“It has been a long day, my dearest,” Alistair exhaled, kissing down her neck and reaching his hand up her nightdress.  
Anora laughed and replied “I can’t imagine how exhausted you must be, your highness.” Alistair cupped her breasts as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and moaned into him.

He had his eyes closed as he kissed her but heard another soft padding of feet close to them, he looked and saw Morrigan dressed similarly to Anora but her night-dress was a deep emerald. Her hair was down letting her jet black hair spill down her back and her yellow eyes looked like they were shining.

“I see our wife has started things off well.” She nearly purred at the sight of the two, a wicked smile curled up on her face.

“Come, my darling,” Anora beckoned breathlessly to Morrigan, “help me please our husband.”

Alistair’s grin only grew wider at the sight of his first wife, his witch dressed so provocatively. “Oh Maker, you two look absolutely ravishing.”

“And you will sit back and relax.” Anora softly commanded as she slid down his body and knelt upon the carpet that ran the length of the throne room. Morrigan sauntered over, hips swaying with her bare footsteps and sank to her knees in front of Alistair.

The raven haired woman began to press her lips against Alistair's inner thigh. She kissed hard enough that he felt it through the breeches he wore. The very same breeches Anora was expertly undoing the laces of. The blonde’s fingers were deft and the knots were untied in no time.

Both women tugged at the pant waist pulling them down. His large Therin scepter sprung out in attention to both of the women’s delight. Greedily, Morrigan took the head in her mouth, sucking hard a moment eliciting a strangled moan from her husband. Anora ran the broadside of her tongue up and down his shaft, while lightly massaging his royal jewels.

Alistair gripped the armrest of his throne tightly. Different, was bloody right, he thought. And absolutely incredible.

His thoughts were erased as Morrigan placed her palms firmly on his knees to shift position so her mouth was directly over his spit covered length and took it deeper into her mouth, making a steady rocking motion with her head bobbing up and down, letting her dark hair spill on his lap. The wanton slurping sounds she was making with her mouth was driving him to madness. Anora was busy lightly licking at Morrigan’s lips as she came down towards her administering to their husband balls. The blonde would lick from the base, and up in time to meet her wife’s lips.

Alistair met Morrigan’s eyes, they seemed brighter as he watched her. He made a bawdy grin and she almost rolled her eyes making him smile wider. Both women ran their hands all over Alistair, massaging his thighs and caressing his broad chest underneath his tunic. Morrigan released him with a wet pop and Anora took over swallowing him as much as she could. Alistair's hand came to her face, touching it softly, encouragingly.

She took him more than farther in her mouth than Morrigan and the witch smiled watching her queen engaged in such a lewd act, she was most beautiful when she had a mouthful of their husband's cock. Alistair moaned loudly as she was able to get the head of his shaft to hit the back of her throat. Morrigan pushed Anora’s head down farther and held it there with her hand making Alistair cry out from the sensation.

The queen came up gasping, tears in her eyes and a strand of spittle connecting her bottom lip to the pulsing head of Alistair's manhood. Morrigan made sure their husband was looking, gave her wife a cheeky smile, leaned over, took the drooping strand of saliva into her mouth and rose up with it into Anora’s mouth, kissing her deeply, all while stroking Alistair’s length as he watched his wives moan into each other.

Another throaty groan came from the pit of Alistair’s core. Morrigan slowed stroking, pulled Anora to a stand and pushed her forward into their husband. The blonde climbed on top, letting Morrigan hike her skirts up, and allowed Anora to hover her wet center over Alistair’s cock. Her dampened inner-thighs glistening in the candlelight as she held them in position.

“You two are the best wives ever.” Alistair half moaned as Anora lowered herself on him.

Slowly, agonizingly, with Morrigan kissing her face as she did, the queen took him fully. Then, with well timed rhythm Anora started to rock her hips. The King of Ferelden made a low guttural sound as he felt the hot, wet, silkiness of his queen’s center. He took Anora in his arms and began thrusting in time with her motions, his length becoming covered in her juices.

Their moans became heavier. The sounds they made as their bodies intertwined made Morrigan moisten. It pleased her watching them, her queen being taken by their king. She ached to join them but she had to focus. A task still needed to be accomplished. Her fingers felt for the vial, small enough that it could be tucked into the elastic of her underclothes.

From her position still kneeling before the two, Morrigan propped herself up running her hands over Anora and Alistair. She lay kisses on bare skin, making her way up Anora’s back then diving in between the two to kiss Alistair, sucking his tongue into her mouth. He broke off to make a strangled noise trying to speak.

“I’m almost there!” He managed.

Morrigan ducked back down to her place before them giving her the most intimate view of her spouses. She watched as Anora pushed her hips into Alistiar’s thrusts, taking his length fully with each. Their thighs slick with one another’s juices.

Alistair began thrusting harder and Morrigan placed her hands on Anora’s ass pushing her into him more. One last deep thrust and Alistair emptied himself into Anora with a cry. A moment later the blonde was turned over onto her back, making Alistair’s manhood slip out, spilling some of his seed on the throne.

Morrigan’s mouth went between Anora’s legs, making the queen squeal out in surprise. The three had been married nearly five years now, and they shared a bed for longer than that, Morrigan had used her mouth on her on countless occasions but the timing was new.

Anora felt her wife’s mouth suck her a moment then felt her tongue roam up her wet quim to her clit. Alistair joined in by kneading her breasts through the sheer fabric of her nightdress. From his fucking to Morrigan’s ministrations, Anora did not last long.

A long gasping groan came from the queen as her witch reduced her to a limp, heavy breathing mess lying on top of Alistair. Morrigan rose over the two, wiping her mouth with her arm. She had a pleased look on her face as she watched her husband and wife breathing hard and trying to sit up on the throne. They grinned at each other as they untangled themselves from each other.

“What did I do to deserve that? No that I’m complaining.” Alistair asked breathlessly, helping the wife who was on top of him to a sitting position.

“We missed you.” Anora told him as she craned her head back to kiss him on the cheek. Then she held her arms out to Morrigan and made a cute pout. The witch rolled her eyes but reached out and helped her wife up to stand.

The smaller woman came up with a giggle and a kiss on Morrigan’s cheek that led to Anora tracing her tongue over the corner of Morrigan’s lips and then dragged it into the witch’s mouth. Morrigan tasted of her spouses and that charged Anora thoroughly. They kissed deeper as the queen ran her hands up and down the witches body.

“That last thing you did, was...intense.” Anora told Morrigan lightly blushing after breaking away.

“Something different was the whole point of this.” Morrigan’s brow raised.

Alistair, left to his own devices a moment, ended up taking his tunic off to clean up the mess they made on the throne. Morrigan called him foolish for doing so and they bickered while Anora tried to keep them using hushed tones, not wanting to alert any passerby. Morrigan kept the vial, secreted under her clothing, unseen by her spouses. Once empty, the small glass container was now full after their love making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was... yeah. Be gentle, this was my first time.


	3. It's Like Thunder, Lightning!

_Six Years Ago 9:30 Dragon, King’s Highway_

It was still another half a day to where the Mage Circle was located in a tower in the middle of Lake Calenhad. It was early morning, their camp was made the night before and the reddish orange dawn of the new day matched the bright embers that were the remains of a fire which Sten tended. It was the end of his watch and he spent the end of it making food for the rest of the party.

Alone, it allowed the Qunari blessed silence, time away from the useless chatter of the rest of the party. He stirred a pot of porridge hanging over the fire, a hot meal was a welcome thing with all their time on the road. It smelled of berries and spice.

Alistair was the first to come out of his tent. He wore a loose tunic and light breeches, his usual sleeping clothes. A stretch and the former Templar made way to the fire, the smell of food drawing him over.

Sten made no conversation, as usual, but he did offer Alistair a hearty bowl of the hot porridge. He offered no words, his grunts communicated enough. The younger man took it with a thanks, he was about to turn and head back to his tent but had a sudden thought.

“Sten, could I have another serving?” Alistair asked the large Qunari.

“Finish your first, you can have seconds after.” Finally, Sten spoke.

“What? No! It's not for me, it's for…” Alistair tried correcting as his eyes drifted to the tent farthest from camp. Sten saw him looking.

“The witch?” There was surprise in Sten’s question as he eyed him.

“Yes.” Alistair responded self-consciously. Another helping of food was ladled in a bowl by the larger man who gave him a wary appraisal. Wooden spoons were given after.

“Be mindful of your actions, Alistair. She is not one to be trifled with.” A low rumble of his voice was full of stern warning. It made the younger man gulp.

“Just trying to be nice, no need to overthink anything.” Alistair muttered as he walked towards Morrigan’s tent.

He breathed deep. No reason to feel nervous, he told himself. No harm in just trying. Though he remembered the less than cordial words Morrigan spoke when Leliana tried to make friendly conversation.

Then he remembered the taste of her neck as he kissed his way down it. The feel of her as he held her body against his, her slight tremble. She spoke with less edge then, it was neither venomous nor cutting. Well, not most of it that he remembered. Things were better between them now, mostly, sort of, he wasn’t completely sure but it was definitely better. He still didn’t know what he thought about Morrigan really, though he wanted to.

He wanted to know her completely. Not in the Chantry sense, either. Maker, what was he thinking? He didn’t know where his mind went at times when it came to her.

Morrigan had done her best to stay separate from the others, setting her place at camp far enough away from prying eyes but close enough to remain in earshot. A sigh from Alistair in front of the branches of leaves and odd leather skins she used as a tent and he rapped his knuckles on the wooden portions of the shelter. He turned his back to it, holding the bowls awkwardly.

“Yes?” Morrigan poked her head out the tent flap.

Alistair turned back around too quickly, almost losing his hold on the food. He thankfully recovered and looked over his shoulder to Morrigan. Her hair was down and she looked as though she just woke but still seemed so…

“ _Maker, she’s beautiful._ ” Alistair thought, his heart starting to pound in his ears. Sten’s words reverberated in his mind as loudly as the thudding thing in his chest.

“I thought you’d like to break fast with me.”

He tried his best not to stutter, though with what had happened the other night left unspoken, there was a measure of comfort between them since.

She eyed him suspiciously despite. This was not the usual behavior for Alistair. His nervousness grew during the impromptu inspection. Then her eyes went to the bowls in his hand.

“Who cooked that?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially while looking about.

“Sten.” Alistair replied in the same tone, then added “Why?” A little confused.

Morrigan gave him another pointed look and ducked her head back into the tent for an agonizingly long moment for Alistair. He masked it well when she came out again dressed as she usually did, a furred leather jerkin and cloth barely covering her chest while feathers adorned her shoulder and a reddish colored hood she left down. Her hair was done up again and Alistair could not help but keep the image of her long tresses falling over her pale shoulders.

“I dislike how Lyna makes it. Dalish cuisine does not agree with me it seems.” She admitted to Alistair as she held her out her hand to him and he gave her a bowl.

“Oh, well I’m okay with it I think, or at least her cooking hasn’t affected me as yet.”

The witch kept two long logs laid out near her fire pit as makeshift benches, Alistair found a spot on one which allowed him to face the rest of the camp. He offered up a spoon to her and she sat opposite him after taking it. The porridge was nutty and sweetly spiced from their foraged supplies, perhaps even some cinnamon Steni had secreted in their travels since Redcliffe. The food was hot and filled their bellies. From the look on her face, Alistair saw that Quanari cooking seemed to agree with Morrigan better than Dalish.

Neither spoke, and only the sounds of the morning; songs of birds, rustling leaves and spoons scraping wooden bowls, filled their silence. It was comfortable at first but Alistair could not help but stare at the way Morrigan ate from her spoon, how her lips pursed as she did. He watched her neck move as she swallowed. Those images brought him to memories of how her flesh felt hot against his lips. His nerves grew and he felt his ears burn.

“Are you feeling well, Alistair?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” He tried to be nonchalant but the redness of his ears were now traveling over his face.

“You seem…” She started.

“I don't know how to do this anymore!” Alistair blurted into his porridge, breathing hard a little.

“Do what?” Morrigan asked, her eyes wide confused after eating a spoonful of food. She remained aloof despite.

“I thought I would try to be nicer to you,” he managed softly. “After last night.” He added even quieter. “But I realized I don’t even know how to talk to you without…”

“Losing your temper?” Morrigan finished for him. She slurped from her spoon eyeing him with those cold yellow eyes of hers. He frowned but nodded.

“And my mind sometimes." he paused a long few moments, skirting around the other ways she makes him feel. "I’m tired of being that way, it’s exhausting.” He sighed, as though making his point. “But I know what you think of me, so I don't expect us to be best friends or anything.”

“Never presume to know what I am thinking, Alistair. And we will never be friends.” Morrigan said evenly. It was a statement of fact, no insult was intended. Alistair was crushed hearing her, but kept himself composed. What were they after what happened between the two of them?

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and tiredly waved his spoon at her. “We are what we are.”

Morrigan looked at him a moment but did not reply. Alistair chose to stare off into the distance across the camp as he ate. He spotted Leliana coming out of Lyna’s tent, though trying to be discreet and he grinned to himself. The redheaded bard rounded to the rear of the tent and the elf came out a moment later with a kettle. Morrigan followed his eyes and her own widened slightly.

“How long has that been happening?” the witch seemed surprised.

“I’d wager since after Lothering. Lyna was pretty weird about it at first.” Alistair told her mid bite.

“Interesting. I did not know that. I didn’t even know that she was interested in women in that way.”

“Seemed she didn’t either, really. Best talk to her about it if you want to know more.”

“Hmm, yes, ‘twould be only polite. You had feelings for her, did you not? At the beginning?”

“Maker, you just speak your mind, don't you?” Alistair was flustered. It was not something he wanted to be known to any, least of all her, but the witch was perceptive and with them since before the beginning.

“Is there another way to do so?”

“Yes, politer ways. Ways that hold one’s tongue.”

“That sounds wearisome.” Morrigan decided, wrinkling her nose.

“I thought I did. We have a connection, she believes. I mistook it for something else, it hasn’t changed things though. I’ll care for her no matter, and she will care for me. We'll always be friends.” Alistair answered her previous question.

Another quiet moment settled between them. Even with Alistair admitting his former feelings for their leader it felt lighter than before. It seemed more comfortable this time. Alistair finished his meal, watched and waited till Morrigan was done with hers and stood. He stepped to the witch with his hand out.

“And what exactly are we, Alistair?” She asked, her bowl proffered up to him. Her eyes met his, and she seemed to peer into him.

“What?”

“You’re words, ‘we are what we are.” She repeated what he said before offhandedly. He took her bowl and spoon, piled it on top of his and regarded her a moment before he spoke.

“Well, since we'll never be friends, we can at least be teammates.” He told her simply. “You can trust me at your back no matter what. And I’ll trust you with mine.”

He turned and walked away, she could only look on as he went. He joined Sten and Lyna at the larger fire close to the other tents. The bard joined shortly after and Morrigan went back into her shelter not before giving Alistair one last look of consideration.

* * *

They were ambushed. The attack came nearly right after the group had broken camp and set off on the road. Bandits with a hedge wizard appeared from the tree line of the road to the Mage Circle and pressed their advantage of surprise expertly, having the party nearly surrounded. The bandits were poorly armored but well armed, they sported desperate, angry expressions, Lyna’s keeper mentioned how Blights affected the minds’ of shemlen.

Alistair and Sten in their heavier armor made a front line for Morrigan and Leliana who stayed by Bohdan's cart for a measure of cover. Lyna dived under tall grass to hide herself, the Mubari, Ayam, barked wildly to distract their enemies. The merchant, Bodhan and his son were underneath the cart, staying close to one another.

The bard used her bow to try and pick off the enemies at the enemy’s rear line while Morrigan would use her magicks to ensnare or debilitate their foes from afar. Arrows flew striking Alistair’s raised shield as he charged into the bandits, sword held ready. He had cut down two with an expert thrust and slash. Sten, who was close behind, swung his greatsword in a large arch scattering bandits in front of him and beheading one as they ran.

Alistair gave a quick scan and saw more bandits coming out from the thick brush of the forest, they headed towards the witch and the bard.

“Watch for the flank!” Alistair bellowed and saw Lyna come up from behind a bandit, slitting their throat. Another was overpowered and mauled by their Mubari warhound, Ayam. Lyna threw her dagger at a third and it stuck in his eye, blood spurted out as he fell.

The former Templar noticed that arrows stopped flying at him and gave another look at the battlefield. A hail of missiles came from a short distance, several hit the wooden cart and a few bounced off Morrigan who cast a Rock Armor spell, granite grew over her skin keeping the arrows from piercing her.

Lyna killed another bandit, driving her daggers into his back. She was breathing hard as she pulled her blades out, blood covering her and her weapons. She saw the arrows coming down on Leliana and Morrigan, the bard had taken cover under the cart, along with Bodhan and his son, Sandal.

Morrigan continued to wave her staff about, hurling her elemental magicks. Men stood frozen, or lay burning by her frost and fire spells. She felt the Rock Armor was waning, and cast an Arcane Shield that surrounded her in another protective layer. She tried casting another spell, a longer one that required incantation and focus but more arrows peppered her magical shield distracting her from her casting.

The first few merely bounced off the surface of hardened arcane force. Then some started to stick in the barrier like Alistair’s shield. Arrow heads embedded deeper and deeper into Morrigan’s Arcane Shield till a few were more than halfway through it.

Alistair saw yet another volley of arrows fly. “Get under cover!” he called to Morrigan hoping she’d listen.

Sten was controlling the middle of the battlefield. The large man split a bandit in half with his huge blade and was able to keep another half-dozen at swords length. Lyna was nowhere to be seen but that was normal, and Ayam had just come off another mauled bandit. More arrows shot out into the sky. They were clearly focusing on the witch.

And then an explosion a close distance away knocked Alistair on his back. Head spinning and arse aching, an obvious reminder of his mistake; the Maker damned mage. He had lost track of the enemy caster and thought that Lyna or Ayam had already taken care of him. Unless they had and these bandits were now somehow throwing bombs at them, but Alistair didn’t think the attackers were that well equipped.

Alistair was on his back trying to clear his vision. There was a shape over him, too blurry to recognize and when he finally realized it was a bandit with his sword raised for a killing blow, he scrambled for his sword or shield that he could not find. An arrow pierced the bandits throat and she fell over with a gurgle.

Alistair got to his feet and saw Leliana still under the cart but with her short bow at the ready. He nodded to her and received one in turn. He got back on his feet, finding his sword and shield again. He looked over the battlefield, trying to get a scope of things. He must have felled at least five men already, how many more did these bandits have? They had to end this quickly.

“Sten! The archers!” Alistair pointed at the direction where the arrows flew from with a wavering sword. His knees shook slightly as he regained balance. No word came from the tall Qunari but he moved quickly with long strides, dispatching another bandit and rushing to where the archer line might be.

“Lyna! Get that bloody mage!” He called out to the elf, despite not seeing her and hoping she was in earshot.

He turned to check on Morrigan who had four men approaching her with swords drawn. He gripped his shield and his sword, felt a surge seeing those that tried to attack the witch. Alistair charged at them.

The Dalish rogue saw her target. She crept low into the scrub grass trying to remain unseen from her prey. The Grey Warden heard Alistair’s order and rushed to dispatch her target. She saw the mage try to cast a spell and scrambled on her hands and knees to propel herself at him. She was able to move the distance quietly to interrupt the caster with a swift kick in the middle of his legs.

Ayam leaped at the mage as he clutched his balls and was mauled, sharp canine teeth tearing out his throat. Lyna looked over the battlefield for another foe to kill. She spied a group of bandits rushing towards Morrigan, Alistair charged one, and she threw a dagger at another.

Leliana came out from under the cart and drew her daggers to attack another that approached Morrigan. The redhead pounced. The bandit had his back turned to the redhead and she stabbed him through the neck before facing off with another armed with a sword and shield.

Alistair was pushed farther and farther away from Morrigan’s position. He tried not to look over to her needing attention on his foe. He parried a blow with his sword and ducked under a slash to his head. A dodge to another parry and Alistair struck out with his shield, striking his foe full in the face, dazing him a moment before Alistair cut him through.

A final bandit raised his sword at Morrigan, who had finally quit chanting. Alistair was much too far to do anything, nor did he didn’t have the stamina for another charge. So, he dropped his shield, gripped his sword with both hands and threw it with all his might. The blade flew true and struck the bandit in his side, nearly cutting him in half.

With a cry, Lyna called any to follow her and Leliana rushed with Ayam to where Sten could be heard still fighting. Alistair, deciding that they were more than enough to help the Qunari, took the moment to find his sword and shield then trotted over to Morrigan.

She looked tired as well, her shoulders coming and down as she leaned slightly on her staff. Her brows came together and there was a look of annoyance on her face. She did not look happy to see him.

“I had him.” Morrigan said, breathing hard a little.

“You are un-bloody-believable.” Alistair replied, rolling his eyes at her thanklessness. He reached into a side pouch and handed her his last small vial of lyrium. She took it without words, uncorking with a flick of her thumb and downed its contents.

“I do not need yours, nor anyone else’s help.” Morrigan declared after a swallow. “I could have killed those four myself easily. In fact had you not sent the Qunari to their archers, I’d have been able to use my magicks more efficiently, allowing him to stay closer to us.”

Alistair shook his head at her. “Excuse us for trying to protect our mage in the middle of a fight.”

“You are a poor tactician.” Morrigan sneered, turning her chin at him haughtily. “You should let me handle the archers. You must realize my advantage is reaching foes from afar, while Sten’s is killing up close. I am sure your betters taught you that…” She was suddenly shoved hard by Alistair, interrupting her scolding. She fell to the dirt on her hands and knees and her anger exploded.

“HOW! BLOODY! DARE! YOU!” Morrigan growled as she practically jumped up from her place on the ground.

Primordial lightning crackled at her fingertips. She turned to find Alistair, ready to electrify the idiot Templar to ash but then saw him on his knees. His face was ashen and looking down at a crossbow bolt piercing the plate armor over his belly.

A bandit, perhaps a straggler from the melee with the others, was reloading as fast she could a short distance away. Morrigan’s eyes were wide with panic as they darted back and forth between the two. Alistair looked up at her and moved his mouth like he was trying to say something. His eyes were unfocused and even tried to draw his sword but coughed up blood instead.

More blood pooled around his bent legs. A tight knot developed in Morrigan’s chest so constricting she could make no breath, make no thought as this alien pressure threatened to crush her from within. Morrigan saw the crossbow almost finished being loaded and no more thought occurred, just magic.

A vulnerability hex to strengthen consequent spells upon her target, then the spell of Horror that shot at from her staff like a bat. The bandit dropped her weapon and began screaming in fright. The woman clutched at her hair and scratched into her face as she rocked back and forth where she stood.

The moment was used to cast the sole healing spell in Morrigan’s magical repertoire. It was enough to stem most of Alistair's bleeding but not all of it, and he had already lost so much blood already. Finding her fury again, Morrigan turned back to the screaming bandit.

A lightning bolt crackled from the witch’s free hand. With a loud zZzap, electricity arched through the bandit’s leather armor and out of her back, charring flesh and hide, leaving a smoking hole big enough to see through. The smell of ozone and burning meat wafted through the air as the bandit’s body dropped limply to the dirt.

Alistair had fallen over on his side and was gasping as though he were drowning. The pool of blood beneath him only got bigger. Morrigan rushed to his side, dropping her staff and summoning healing energies into her hands. She placed them on either side of Alistair’s head administering as much of the restorative magic as she could.

Alistiar’s breathing became even and but his eyes would drift and would not settle on anything. Morrigan desperately tried to focus on her healing spell but she could feel her energies waning. She had little mana left and no more lyrium potions to be had.

She scrambled over Alistair, cursing his large and heavy form while trying to undo the straps and buckles of his armor so she might apply the poultices that Lyna made. Morrigan's hands started to shake as she failed to work the fastens of the platemail and tugging only made Alistair moan louder and in pain.

Panic washed over her like an ocean wave. Her mind was scattered and no rationale came to her, so with a hoarse voice she tried to cry out, but could only make a strangled sobbing noise that could not carry over the battlefield. She tried again and after a deep breath she did not recognize the desperate pleading wail that seemed to come out from her lungs of their own accord.

“HELP ME!! PLEASE!! ANYONE, I NEED HELP!!”

Suddenly, something wet started to drip on Alistair's pale face. It was not until the others arrived did Morrigan realize they were her tears.


End file.
